


The Napoleon of Crime

by elysiumwaits



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cats (2019) Never Existed, Fluff, Humor, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Werecat Stiles Stilinski, but not really it's catnip, that has no bearing on the plot I just want to be clear here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-04-21 16:55:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22095835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elysiumwaits/pseuds/elysiumwaits
Summary: Derek bails Stiles out of jail.Kitty jail.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 48
Kudos: 824





	The Napoleon of Crime

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A Fiend in Feline Shape](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20695298) by [elysiumwaits](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elysiumwaits/pseuds/elysiumwaits). 

> Sometimes, when you have a crappy week, you need to write your favs as a were-domestic housecat. Sequel to [A Fiend in Feline Shape.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20695298)
> 
> Title is from T.S. Eliot's poem "Macavity the Mystery Cat." This fic has no affiliation with Cats (2019), and takes place in a universe where it doesn't exist, because that is the better timeline.

When Derek's phone rings on a Saturday morning, he gets a bad feeling.

Now, to be completely clear, he doesn't get a bad feeling as in "doom." His bad feeling is more "exasperation." The fond kind, though, where you it's kind of endearing just how annoying the person you love is. He usually only gets that feeling about Stiles or things that are Stiles-adjacent. Considering the person on Derek's caller ID is the sheriff, he guesses this would be a Stiles-adjacent-exasperation kind of situation.

"Derek, I need you to do something," John says when Derek picks up. He sounds exasperated as well, so this is probably less Stiles-adjacent and more just plain Stiles. "For me. Well, for Stiles really. Probably for the whole town, if I'm being honest."

"I'm going to be honest, sir, I don't like where this is going," Derek says, slowing down with his shopping cart full of vegetables, three bags of pizza rolls, and frozen fish. 

"I need you to go break Stiles out of jail."

Derek waits for the laughter. There isn't any. "Beacon County?" Derek asks, lowering his voice. "I mean. I could probably get in pretty easily, the security systems at Beacon County Jail aren't the best, but I might have to loop someone else in as lookout. What's the timeframe here?"

There's a beat of silence, and then John says, "Okay, son, first I'm going to ask that you never tell me how many jails you've broken into or out of. Second, I'm gonna rephrase - I need you to go pick Stiles up from the pound. He's been there since last night. Animal control called in this morning that someone turned in a gray tabby with white feet who was, and I quote, 'ransacking an elderly woman's garden.' Apparently, she grows catnip for her own indoor cats in a window box."

Oh god. Derek can't _wait_. This is the best thing to happen to him all week. "Yeah, I can do that."

"One more thing," John adds. "You'll need some kind of proof that Stiles is your cat."

This is his birthday come early. Derek's going to scrapbook this. He doesn't even scrapbook as a hobby, but he's going to buy a scrapbook _specifically_ for this situation. He's going to take pictures and send it out as his Christmas card this year. 

The Beacon County Animal Shelter is not the most pleasant of places for Derek to be. For one thing, he can hear every single noise that every single animal is making, from the cats hissing as soon as he walks in the door to the joyful 'be my friend' barks of the dogs. As it is, though, he's pretty thrilled to be here today, even though he's sure Stiles isn't. 

"How can I help you?" the cheerful blonde girl at the counter asks. She's wearing an apron with an orange kitten poking out of the pocket, asleep as can be. 

Derek pulls out his phone. "I'm, uh. My cat went missing a couple nights ago, I'm looking to see if anyone turned him in." He pulls up a picture of Stiles in his cat shift, fast asleep on the couch with his paws curled up. 

She studies it for a moment, and then lights up. "Oh! I think we might just have him here! Is he chipped?"

"No, he hates the idea," Derek says, tucking his phone away back into his jacket pocket and looking up just in time to see her looking at him a little strangely. "I mean. He hates vets. It's, uh. This has never happened before, I'll make sure that I get him chipped."

"Well," she says, slow like she's a little unsure of Derek now. "I will need some kind of proof that he's your cat. Unfortunately we can't just take your pictures as proof anymore."

The urge to grin maniacally is so strong. Derek fights it down, remains as stoic as ever as he pulls the cheap blue breakaway collar with dots and a bow on it out of his pocket. Hanging from it is a little tag. "He'll answer to his name," Derek says, and manages to keep a straight face as he does it. 

"Sure thing, that will work!" she says, cheerful again. "If you'll follow me."

The kitten in her pocket stays, somehow, asleep as she walks, leading Derek down the hall to where the cat kennels are. There is one cage, in the very center of the wall, with a sign on it in bubbly handwriting that says, "Do not give me catnip! I am playful and sweet!" Inside is a very morose lump of cat that sure looks an awful lot like _Derek's_ very morose lump of cat. 

He smiles, fond, and pokes a finger through the bars to tickle Stiles' side. "Hey, Macavity." 

Stiles perks up instantly, eyes popping open as he lets out a string of meows and trills, purring and rubbing his face against Derek's hand. He doesn't quiet, even when the helper unlocks the cage to bring him out and hand him over to Derek. 

"Aw," she says, watching Stiles try to climb up onto Derek's shoulders. "I love a happy reunion. Oh, here, let me help you with that collar."

The effect that phrase has on Stiles is going to give Derek fuel for literal years. He freezes, eight pounds of absolute holy terror stopping completely in horror, for just enough time for the girl to buckle the collar around his neck and pet him across the head. She steps away with a smile, and Stiles' meows are much louder and very indignant now.

"Oh, wait, could you take our picture?" Derek asks, and then puts on what he hopes is an appropriate expression of gratitude and not absolute glee. "I want to post it on Facebook."

Stiles lets out another mighty meow. 

"Oh, of course!" she says. She snaps the picture with his phone and hands it back. "You guys are so cute. Alright, we'll just need you to sign him out, and you're on your way!"

By the time Derek makes it out of the pound with Stiles in his arms, he can't contain the laughter. He plops Stiles into the backseat and comes around to the front to slide into the driver's seat, just barely managing to get in the Camaro before he loses it, laughing so hard he's got to press his head to the steering wheel.

"Stop!" Stiles whines, apparently human now. Derek can hear the rustle of clothing. "Oh my god, you have to stop laughing, Derek. Shut _up_, it's not that funny!"

"You got _high on catnip_," Derek manages between laughter. "You got high on _stolen _catnip and then they took you to the _clink_. I just had to bail you out of kitty jail."

"I will kill you, I swear to god." More rustling, and then Stiles is smacking into Derek's shoulder, trying to clamber over the console to get into the front passenger seat. "And what the hell is this?" The collar bounces onto Derek's lap.

Derek takes a couple of breaths and tries to get himself under control. "That is your collar, Macavity," he manages, in that choked way where he's very obviously attempting not to giggle. He loses it a little again, and Stiles waits impatiently for him to get it under control. "That-that is because you're not chipped."

"I am _not_ going to get chipped," Stiles snaps, but Derek can see him starting to smile too. "I am a _were_-domestic housecat, not an actual domestic housecat. And also, Macavity? Really? I'm _clearly_ a Munkustrap."

"You're a master criminal." Derek hears his phone ding, which means the sheriff must have gotten the picture he sent. "You're the Hidden Paw, the Napoleon of Crime."

"Yeah, except I was very clearly at the scene of the crime." Stiles is outright grinning. "I can't believe I got picked up by animal control. My dad's never gonna let me live it down. I have a criminal record. I've done hard time, Derek, I've changed now."

"A fiend in feline shape," Derek adds. "A monster of depravity."

Stiles quiets him with a kiss. Then, after a moment, he pulls away. "So, hey. That kitten in Sherry's pocket is up for adoption."

That shuts Derek _right_ up. "No," he says after a moment when Stiles doesn't say that it's a joke. "No, I have a pet deposit at the apartment."

"Which you already paid when your landlord found me hanging out."

"No," Derek says again. "No, Stiles, I already have you, and you're a handful. A kitten would be an insane idea."

They name the kitten Macavity. Stiles calls him Mystery Cat.


End file.
